Meeting the Moai – Ancient Guardians of Easter Island
I can’t remember when I first saw the majestic Moai of Easter Island; it might have been on a travel channel, in one of the travel magazines I used to browse, or perhaps on a postcard. However, one thing is certain… it was love at first sight! These stone figures have something mysterious, even magnetic about them. They don’t have eyes, yet they seem to gaze penetratingly, commanding respect as befitting the guardians of humanity’s unsolved mysteries. Here’s a little spoiler, a curiosity: Moai actually had eyes once! And I must say, with those eyes, they probably commanded even greater reverence!
Third time’s the charm – attempting to reach Easter Island
When I found out that Easter Island belonged to Chile, and I was soon going to live in Chile, I knew I simply HAD to see it! However, the matter turned out to be not so simple. First of all, while the island is indeed part of Chile after a tumultuous history, it is the farthest inhabited place on earth from the mainland, and reaching it requires crossing the Pacific Ocean. I’m not sure why it’s called the Pacific Ocean because you can say many things about it, but certainly not that it’s peaceful. Secondly, the world was hit by the Coronavirus pandemic, and my original flight was canceled, leaving the island completely cut off from the modern world, allowing only military flights with food supplies for an extended period. The island’s residents experienced a true spiritual catharsis during the pandemic, realizing that they no longer needed tourists to survive. They turned to preserving ancient traditions, agriculture, animal husbandry, craftsmanship, music, and… they seemed happy. Several times, in local referendums, they refused to open the island to tourists, even discussing the possibility of permanently banning them. So you can imagine, when after over two years of closure, the island was officially announced to reopen, I couldn’t believe my luck and immediately booked seats on the first flight (just in case) for me and my family. In the meantime, things also changed in our family, as Adam was born, who wasn’t even in the plans when we bought the tickets to the island. We had to add him to the ticket, which caused quite a commotion during the journey. And this story doesn’t have a happy ending yet. To my despair, the decision to open the island was reversed due to protests by local residents, and once again, we were left with tickets but no plane to take us there, and to my even greater sorrow, we had to postpone our plans for another year.
Iorana! Here we are
So when, after over 3 years of nervously waiting to see if we would ever get to see the island, we finally landed on it, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of euphoria that’s hard to describe. From a bird’s eye view, Easter Island looks majestic, like a green spot in the middle of the ocean, with the deep crater of Rano Kau resembling the trace of a giant meteorite. No wonder it was first named the Navel of the World. Nervous tension, the pilot making an approach to the runway that cuts through the whole island and begins and ends in the sea. Will he make it? He did it! Phew… We’re here. Iorana!!! (Note: “Welcome!” in the local Rapa Nui language.) We were given floral necklaces by our hosts, and amid the crowds of tourists maneuvering their luggage at the airport (which sounds too grand for a few small thatched buildings), I felt incredibly happy. My enthusiasm is starting to rub off on my family. It’s irrational, but I can clearly feel the energy of this place; every gust of wind gives me literal chills. It’s like I can smell history in the air! Soon, I will see them, I will face those sentinels of the past: the mysterious Moai! Soon, we find out how lucky we were to reach the island. A few hours later, a storm breaks out in the Pacific, and another plane has to turn back to Santiago de Chile, 3750 km away, just before landing! Flights to the island are suspended until Monday… The ocean doesn’t treat the island kindly; flights often have to turn back due to difficult weather conditions and the inability to land. Oh, such bad luck, my nerves would probably not handle it after so many years of waiting!
We leave our suitcases in our hut, which will be our home on Easter Island. “What a waste of time!” – I exclaim. “Hurry up, family, let’s go!” Robert grumbles a bit that it’s always the same with me, that a person can’t even rest after such a long and tiring journey (I hear it with one ear and let it out the other because if I always asked my family what they feel like doing, we’d probably always be sitting at home or in restaurants!). And off we go to conquer the island.
A moment that will stay with us forever
The sea lashes the rocky coast, palm trees bend under the force of the wind, and the island is shrouded in dense fog. So our first meeting will be in the rain, I think to myself. Not quite the way one envisions a first date, such a long-awaited encounter! We head to the largest ahu on the island (note: traditional ceremonial platforms on which moai stand), Ahu Tongariki. The island isn’t big; it takes us maybe 30 minutes, but it’s enough for the children to doze off like little angels on the back seat of the car. Yes, they’re only angels when they sleep! For a moment, I hesitate whether to wake them, but eventually, I wave my hand. Robert and I jump out of the car like kids in a frenzy searching for Easter chocolate eggs. Wow, oh, ah, and eh… It’s something incredible! Tears come to my eyes; I must be such a nostalgic, hysterical woman when something moves me.
Nobody felt like sticking their noses out in a town ravaged by a storm. There was no living soul on the road. It seems we’re alone here, them and us. The guardians of the past. They stand in a row, proudly puffing out their chests. Like soldiers of different stature, there’s the plump one and the skinny one, the tall one and the short one, the one with the helmet and the one who took it off. The fog envelops them all around, and you can hear the neighing of wild horses running on the nearby slopes, the wind carries the roar of foamy waves crashing high into the air. And there we stand in silent awe, Robert and I, holding hands. Our children sleep in the car and miss the moment, but I will remember it for the rest of my life. Us and the moai, the moai and us. Despite the storm, there’s an eerie calmness. Before us, there’s history, but it feels like the present. I feel my heart filled with immense gratitude for being here, for being here and now, finally. Iorana!
